


The Devil is in the Sheets

by MidKnight2501



Series: Fall Behind Left Behind [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Non Consensual, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidKnight2501/pseuds/MidKnight2501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is what I meant when I said we've got twenty minutes.” Silva tells him. A hand paws down his shirt, to his pants and James writhes, wanting to get away, wanting to feel something other than numb. “Well, fifteen now, but I think that's plenty to work with, darling.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil is in the Sheets

Someone knocks on the door, which jolts James wide awake. He realizes before the second knock that Severine and Raoul are still in the bed with him- for a second he's furious- then there's another knock at the door and Silva makes a curious noise and looks towards the door, seeming to not realize how strange his bedfellows are. His hair is half sticking up on one side. 

It would make James laugh, but he's not really the laughing sort. 

“Yes?” Silva says and his hand digs into James' side a little, holding him close against Severine, who makes a sleepy noise and ducks her head farther into Silva's throat. 

He wishes he could get to his gun but he hid it somewhere he can't quite reach, at least not without Silva having a good idea what he might be going for. 

The door opens a crack and one of the sweater guards looks in. “Boss? It's all ready.”

Silva snorts. “What time is it?” He runs a hand over his face, sighing, gets to his hair, and makes a furious little noise when he feels his hair standing up. Silva sits all the way up and frantically finger-combs it down. 

“Eight, sir.” 

“It took you that long?!” He demands. Severine wakes and looks around, scared a moment, then sees Silva and James and the fight goes out of her shoulders. James holds her closer and presses a kiss to her shoulder- the same way he kissed Vesper's fingers- and waits to see what the man has to report. The guard looks a little chagrined at Silva's tone. 

“Sorry- it just took longer- we were trying to figure out who traced us-” The man keeps trying to explain but Silva gets up off the bed, slips his shoes back on, and tugs on his shirt to straighten it. His pants are horribly creased- James wonders why he even cares. 

“Is there coffee?” James asks, because he's not likely to be able to go back to sleep. 

The guard looks from Silva to him then back to Silva. A smile flickers around Silva's mouth for a second, lending a mischievous cast to his eyes. 

“I'm sure if there isn't, Henri here will be more than happy to make you some.” Silva says.

Henri nods after a long second, looking surprised. 

“Uh, sure, Boss. About the tickets?” 

Silva makes a shooing gesture at him with one hand. “I'll handle it, since I can't trust any of you.” But he says it in amused tone and the sweater man doesn't look too worried. Silva gives the two of them a long look from the door and nods once to himself before slipping out. James wonders what he's going to do with Severine but almost in answer to that she's clambering out of the bed and only elbowing him in the side once. It's pretty graceful, considering all the times James has had to rush out of a bed he doesn't belong in. 

She won't meet his eyes as she straightens her clothes and rakes fingers through her hair. “You should pack.” 

“Are we going somewhere?” James asks, slinging his feet over the side of the bed and digging his toes into the carpet. He'd rather liked this hotel, all things told. Except for the gunfight in the mall Berlin has been pretty good to them.

“Obviously.” Severine huffs, amused, and leaves him alone. James figures he better go look for that coffee, and then maybe pack. 

Out in the sitting room Silva is doing something on the phone and the computer at the same time- he's got a cell wedged against his shoulder and is tapping away at a black and green coding screen like he's not quickly chattering in Catalan. Even James is a little hazy in that- he can order drinks and ask for sex and that's about it. He can do that in about fifteen languages if he tries. He goes to the kitchen and finds Henri brewing a pot for him. The beans are even freshly ground.

“He spoils you.” Henri says, while wiping down the inside of the grinder with a wet paper towel. He doesn't look mad- more amused, James would guess. There are grinds on his sweater from the way he's holding the machine. 

James wonders if the man remembers what happened to him on the island. Wonders if he was there. His face isn't familiar, but all the sweaters are basically the same. James picks at the memory like a scab he doesn't particularly like and wonders if it's scarring over. He doesn't... He's not sure what he feels about it, now. He remembers the disgust and the shame just fine, remembers wanting to scrub until his skin peeled off. Now...

Henri offers him a cup of coffee and half a smile and James takes it. He thinks about throwing the coffee in the man's face and going for his gun but instead he takes a sip of the coffee. He has his own gun, he'll use it when he needs to. 

“James, darling, I know you love your lazy breakfasts, but this morning we've got a tight schedule.” Silva says from the door and James turns around to see he's still on the phone, but he's got a hand over the face of it. “I need you to get packed. Think you can do that?” James nods. “Good boy.” 

James heads for the door, and just as he slips past Silva wraps a hand around his arm, high up so his fingers touch James' chest. James' heart lurches into his throat.

“James.” Silva studies his face, too carefully, seeing too much. “I'm going to need that gun.” 

“What gun.” James doesn't even make it sound like a question. Silva's thumb rubs up and down, just a little, just a little too hard, so James can almost feel the nail drawing a line through his shirt. It makes him shiver, and in a not quite bad way.

“Darling. If they toss your room, I'm not going to give it back.” He smiles and leans just a little closer, voice lower. He can feel the man's breath on his face and his eyes nervously flicker to Silva's mouth. “But if you go and get it for me and put that gun right in my hands I'll make sure security doesn't see it and I'll put it right back in your hands when we land. Alright?” And he nods, like James said yes.

Which he didn't. He didn't do anything. But the thought of being unarmed... Of something happening... He needs a weapon. He wants to feel safe. He has to. 

“You promise?” James says, and wonders with horror where those words came from. 

Silva smiles. “I'll even pinky swear if you need it.” He lets go of James' arm with a few pats, and then gets back on the phone and wanders off. 

James winds up sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands over his face, slumped forward. He feels like he's breathing underwater, like when he'd been shot on the train. The things in his chest are throbbing. He doesn't want to give up the gun. He'd gotten it out of the nightstand- he'd taped it underneath, not the easiest to get at but it worked in a pinch- and put it on the bed. He just can't bring himself to go back out in the living room and hand it over. 

“James?” Silva asks and he looks up, realizing with how loud he'd been breathing he hadn't heard the man come in. Silva is crouched on the floor in front of him, too close, and James grabs the gun without thinking, presses it right in the middle of Silva's forehead. The man doesn't look surprised. He doesn't even blink. 

The guard at the door cocks his gun and James wonders who he's going to fire the rifle at- Silva is too close. 

“Shut the door.” Silva orders. “I'm sure we can spare twenty minutes.” He says over the sound of the guard protesting. The door shuts, and he still has the gun pressed to Silva's skin. Silva smiles, slowly. “Going to do it, James?” 

“I want to.” James tells him, but his hands are shaking. That's never happened on a kill before- at least not since the beginning, in that bathroom. His first kill had scared the shit out of him. 

“Do you?” Silva asks, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Or do you want something else?”

“I'm in charge.” James tells him, like a kid robbing a 7-Eleven. Silva gives him a look about it and drops his elbows from his knees, then goes from a crouch to kneeling on the floor.

“Sorry, getting old, I suppose.” Silva tells him. “Everything aches these days.” It's like he has no fear of the gun. Or that fear was scared out of him a long time ago. “James, darling, I'm willing to get on my knees with your gun in my face all day long if that's what you want-” He winks, just to make the innuendo worse. “But we've got a flight to catch and I'm going to be really, really mad if we miss it. Now why don't you give me that gun, I'm sure I'm really impressed you thought this through and you're trying to prove something to me, but we do have a schedule to keep.” 

James cocks the gun and Silva doesn't even blink. 

“I thought you said we have twenty minutes?” James says, stupidly. 

“James.” Silva sighs and leans forward, pushing the gun with his forehead back towards James. “We don't have twenty minutes for a hostage situation. You're scared that you've got to hand over power to me- by giving up the gun you think I didn't notice you take- but I did notice and I didn't do anything about it since you were protecting her. And you don't have any power here anyway, except what I give you, because even if you shoot me there's a lot of guards out there and you haven't got any bullets anyway.”

James looks down to the gun and realizes- god damn it, he hasn't, it's not his usual model but he should have noticed- it had bullets, he remembers that- and he looks back up to Silva, who looks amused. 

“Do I look stupid?” Silva asks and stands up smoothly, then brushes out the wrinkles in his trousers. “Give me the gun, James, and I'll even give you the bullets back.” He holds out a hand and James puts the gun in it, head bowed, scared a little. Silva puts the gun aside, on the nightstand, and pets James' hair. “That's a good boy.” 

James hates that he likes that. A little praise. A warm touch.

Silva pushes him back on the bed suddenly, a knee between his thighs, forearm over James' throat as his pins him down, like a pretty butterfly. James gets two handfuls of shirt and jacket and then the pressure on his throat is making everything swimmy and his whole view is full of Silva. “This is what I meant when I said we've got twenty minutes.” Silva tells him. A hand paws down his shirt, to his pants and James writhes, wanting to get away, wanting to feel something other than numb. “Well, fifteen now, but I think that's plenty to work with, darling.” 

“I don't-” James hisses at him and Silva shakes his head. 

“You can't, without me, can you?” Silva asks. He gets James' belt loose, thumbs the button roughly. “All pent up, James. You've never been one to abstain.” He teases and leans a little closer- James jerks his head aside and Silva sucks a kiss at the the corner of his mouth, then one with a little more bite to his jaw. He shoves James' shirt up- “Lets not get it dirty-” and the feel of his hot palm against James' stomach makes him start shaking. The zip comes down, sticks a little and Silva gets rough with it, then he grabs the fabric of the pants and his underwear in one grip and hisses, “Hips up.” and James does it, wondering what the fuck is wrong with himself, as Silva bares him to mid-thigh. He's hard as a rock, hard as he'd ever been for any woman or man, and Silva's hand wraps around him like a hot vice, fingers so big and long-

“Silva-” James growls. He makes more noises than he likes as Silva strokes him off, fingers too tight, grip too strong, just slow enough that James is suffering with it. 

“You don't know how pretty you are to me, James.” Silva groans into his throat, biting him. “So strong, so scared, fighting me but you just want- want something to be loyal to-” He lets go of James and James rocks up against him- he realizes his hands are gripping Silva's shoulders rather than his throat- and Silva undoes his own trousers, cock falling out hard against James. He wants to recoil but it's hard and warm against him and he grinds up into it, almost mindless. “You're such a good boy- a good, good boy.” Silva wraps a hand around both of them, strokes them both and James wonders how long he can last, how much he's going to come, it's been so fucking long- “That's so nice, you're leaking on me-” he groans and bites James again, slowly making his way back up even as he jerks them harder. There's little spots at the edge of James' vision where Silva's arm is too tight against his throat but he doesn't want it to stop. “Slicking us up, you want it so fucking bad, don't you-” James nods- convulses- he comes between them and Silva uses it to grind against him, too much in the aftermath but he can't stop it, only let it happen, only enjoy it, the feel of a body close and wanting him- Silva comes, heat spreading over James' stomach in his own mess and he feels a little disgusted but he feels too good to care right now. Silva gasps for air against his throat and when he gets his breath back he leans up, looks James over with a critical eye, then drops down to James' stomach- James thinks he's getting up but then Silva lowers his mouth to the soft part of his stomach and his tongue sweeps across the mess, hot and too much after- all that. 

James flings an arm over his face as Silva cleans him. He wants to pretend that didn't happen. That he's disgusted or afraid but the feelings won't come. All he can feel is the tingle and brain melt of a really hard orgasm. Silva licks him clean, tongue in his belly button and the hair lower down. He keeps making little noises, like when he tries new food and likes it. 

Silva stops and leans back up, over him. It's like feeling too much of a blanket over his body and finally he has to uncover his eyes to see what Silva wants. 

He's too close again, one hand pressed into the bed beside James' head. He leans closer, and the other hand curls around the back of James' head, thumb pressed to the joint of his jaw. He kisses James on the lips- James does nothing- 

“Don't be like that, darling.” Silva scolds and digs his thumb in hard, so James has to open his mouth, has to participate. They snog- it's not the worst James has ever had, not that he really wants this. Silva snowballs him, licking both their come into his mouth, making James taste it. He tries to squirm back and away and Silva growls, following him, nipping at his lower lip. When he lets up James thinks to spit and Silva's palm covers his mouth. His thumb and forefinger are too close to James' nose for comfort. “On the count of three we both swallow.” Silva says, like he has a choice.  
~~

The flight is horribly long and James spends most of it staring out the window, even when Severine tries to talk to him. She falls asleep tucked under his arm and James pretends he can't feel Raoul watching him so closely he can feel the gaze under his clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, sorry this took so long. The majority of it was written today. This month is my birthday so I've been busy with a lot of things. 
> 
> Title pulled from The Chemical Brother's The Devil is in the Beats from the Hanna soundtrack. 
> 
> Actual songs for this episode: Sweet Nothing - Florence Welch and Calvin Harris and Animale (Datsik Dubstep Remix)- Don Diablo and Dragonette.


End file.
